


jubilee

by mochacreams



Series: for jupiter, with love (♃) [5]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: 9 years of pining man, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Creampie, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Multiple Sex Positions, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Otasune, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, commission, post-MGS4, snotacon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26627002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochacreams/pseuds/mochacreams
Summary: ju·bi·leenoun1: a special anniversary2: a season of celebration[commission, otasune wedding night sex, post-mgs4]
Relationships: Otacon/Solid Snake
Series: for jupiter, with love (♃) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897660
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	jubilee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cypheragent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypheragent/gifts).



> I KNOW ITS LIKE 1AM BUT I HAD TO FINISH THIS COMM I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING IT!!! please enjoy some soft otasune sex <3

They are usually careful and furtive about everything—because that's what they've always _had_ to be—but tonight feels like the breaking point, the moment where nothing else matters and they're _here_ with each other.

It's okay to be a little careless, now, because the Patriots are gone and the world is as it should be (for the most part). There is peace—or, at least, a very convincing illusion of it. Either way, they'd had a quiet ceremony on the Nomad, with a little cake and really only Raiden and Sunny (and the chickens) to watch. Again— _careful, quiet, furtive_ ; even now, old habits are hard to break.

This, then, will be their first night together _married_ in the belly of the Nomad. Sunny would be staying with Jack and Rose for the night; over the past couple weeks since the end of the Patriots, she had been quite interested in the outside world, and so that also meant she was interested in other kids her age, namely little John. She had practically been begging for a while, and today was the perfect time to finally allow her.

The night is still fresh, right at the cusp of a late evening where the sun hangs low and the moon threatens to rise. Nomad sits on a runway, docked, the engine gently purring in standby while the pilots get to catch a break. They've been parked here for a while, still and unmoving, and they _will_ stay here for a few hours to come.

For once, there is no rush, no haste to move on from this location lest they get spotted and stalked—no fear of being _exposed_.

There's no rush, yet at the same time there's a silent gnawing in Snake's mind— _you've got what you want now, you can have it_. 

It is just dark enough that, standing on the edge where the landing strip meets the ramp to the cargo bridge, he still has to let his eyes adjust a bit. They'd seen off Sunny and Raiden with a few waves just minutes ago, and now—Otacon stands next to him, looking into the same golden sunset that lingers just above the horizon, like a yolk atop egg whites.

_Yeah, you really have the only thing you've wanted._

He doesn't feel as wound-up as he'd once been these few weeks (so nervous despite the fact that the Patriots and Liquid were gone and buried by now, by his hands), but he's still _needy_ in a way that can't simply be satisfied by a long battle finally won. There's something that creeps up in the pit of his gut that tells him to take the fruits of his labor. They deserve to be married, and Snake cannot help but always remind himself of this fact.

It's okay to _want_ , and to be completely happy with the fact that they can finally have this—these things are what he keeps repeating in his head like a mantra. Something long and hard-won, something they couldn't have hoped beyond hope to have just a few years ago.

That's why, as he sets down on the sheets of the bed on the upper level of the Nomad, he can allow himself this _one_ reckless pleasure. Just this one time.

Otacon settles next to him, his body language mirroring a similar message—tentative, but ready to burst into a fit of carelessness. Of _freedom_.

There's peace now, so they can afford something like this—Snake keeps saying this even now, convincing himself even as Otacon is moving his fingers along the crest of his collarbone, touching thoughtfully through the thickness of his sweater.

Nine years have been spent waiting for a night like this. 

But it goes as smoothly as if they had done this many, _many_ times before.

Snake, through the haze, shimmies further onto the bed, noticing the way Otacon shifts closer almost automatically, like clockwork. He keeps flitting his fingers across the sensitive spots at Snake's neck, at his chest that's still pretty toned, all things considered. And Snake, he grips Otacon by his waist, pulling him closer until their bodies touch.

Maybe surprisingly, it's Otacon who breaks the tension and drags Snake's face in, after his hands had slowly moved up to cup the back of his head. Even though it's a rushed and sudden action, somehow it's still just as soft and sweet. His lips taste like chapstick and some of the wedding cake they'd just eaten, and Snake doesn't want to ever pull away.

They had never had time for things like this before—always busy, always moving, always out on missions, and then repeating the cycle over and over again. It's strange, to have that pattern broken so quickly, and he thinks normally he'd be lost on what to do now. But he has Otacon, Otacon has him, and even though they're eager and horny like teenagers, they still have all the time in the world tonight.

Eventually, though, the kiss _does_ end; during that time, however, Otacon's hands had found Snake's whitish-gray strings of hair, and tangled them around his spindly fingers. And now, breaking the kiss, he still teases the ends of his locks, their foreheads pressed together.

This is a small bed made for barely one, though, and so Otacon moves back even farther onto the foot of the bed, right at edge, to get undressed. 

Snake leans back on his palms, raising a brow. "Got somewhere to be?"

"N-No! It's not like that!" Otacon blushes deep, but Snake just laughs it off. "It's just, when you're right in front of me like that..." He hears the scratching of the fabric as Otacon lifts his sweater over his head, letting it drop onto the floor thereafter. He's broader, now, but still slender—maybe a little softer from age, but his body is mostly a constant. Snake tries not to let his stares linger

"I know. I feel like that, too." Snake says it so genuinely, in a low purr, that it makes Otacon look away, pushing on the bridge of his glasses less than tactfully.

He unbuttons his pants and lets them fall, but he’s still in his briefs when he climbs back atop the mattress. Otacon plants his skinny arms on either side of Snake, a stark contrast to the muscles Snake has left. Snake is still much bigger.

He looms over him, his glasses falling to the tip of his nose precariously, threatening to fall off—but they're just so cute on him, Snake can't bear to take them off. So he pushes them back up a little, making Otacon blush just slightly in surprise, his eyes going wide briefly before returning back to normal. 

Leaning back, but still sitting up like this, Otacon can easily tease the hem of Snake's sweater, and slowly pull it over his head. It takes some shimmying, and Snake’s arms going limp as he lifts them one at a time, but eventually his chest and abdomen are bare. 

Otacon clears his throat. "You look…"

He gives a huff. "What? Horrible?" There’s been far too many _recent_ past experiences concerning others and his body that’d he’d been expecting the worst, anyway. 

"... _Sexy_."

There’s a pause. 

"You need to work on your dirty talk."

"I think it's the thought that counts." There's a warm smile that blooms upon Otacon's lips. "Doesn't change the fact that you look good, though." Somehow, the simple honesty of it makes Snake’s insides go fuzzy. Otacon arches his back, leaning downward to kiss him on the lips again. 

This time, it's brief, which makes Snake snort a little in faux annoyance because he still wants _more_ . Otacon, though—he laughs a little, lightly, and just as quickly moves lower. Lower, lower, and...the soft flesh of his lips collides with the rough, slightly wrinkled skin of Snake's neck. Even so—even though, Snake thinks, he _must_ be appalled—he peppers kisses along the sides, then the front, smooching all over his Adam's apple and all the way down to his clavicle. 

A shiver goes up his spine at the contact, the contact he'd been yearning for for so long. There aren't words that could even begin to describe the sensation of finally being able to indulge. His arms squeeze Otacon between them in an embrace, hands pawing at his back with need, almost as if silently coaxing him to keep going.

Snake's head rests against the side of Otacon's face, tickled by the wisps of his dark hair. With their cheeks pressed together, he can feel the heat of Otacon's face that's making his skin turn a light shade of pink. 

Snake's still tense, like he's undeserving; he thinks, maybe, that he shouldn't put Hal through this, too—

"—We've always taken care of each other; tonight will be no different."

It is...a comforting thought. Like he'd been reading his mind. Hal has always shown him so much care.

" _Yeah_." Snake lets out a deep exhale with the word.

It's then that the soft glow of the overhead lights flicker, reflecting lightly off the silver ring on his finger—he stares for a moment, and lets out a breath, only dwelling on the fact that they're _married_ for a brief second. It feels so natural, like something that should've happened ages ago, but then again it's always felt like they've been married, anyways. He's still glad they could make it official, regardless—even when they'd had nothing to really _prove_.

Yes, he should relax—he really should. It'd do no good to either of them if he was clenching up and unsure the whole time; it wouldn't be enjoyable that way, and this is special—Snake owes Otacon that, at least.

When Otacon readjusts his legs, inching closer as he kneels, Snake asks, "Well, what have you always wanted to do?" Talking with him—it makes him so much calmer instantly.

"U-Uhhh… For starters, ride you."

An answer so blunt takes Snake by surprise at first, and he blinks in a way that can only be described as drawn-out. 

"What, you wanna get me off first out of pity?"

Otacon makes a noise, rolling his eyes. "If I say yes, can we just get on with it?"

"Awfully needy." But still, Snake spreads his legs far enough for Otacon to position himself comfortably. 

All the while, he caresses the insides of Snake's thighs, paying close attention to when Snake softly moans, and rubbing especially delicately on those spots (prolonging the sense of arousal that spikes through him). 

Otacon seems to look around, flustered, eyes darting back and forth. "Where's the—"

It clicks, and Snake reaches under the pillow he's resting on to hold up the small, cold bottle of lube. They'd placed it there strategically earlier in the day, back when Sunny was still scampering around, baking the cake for the ceremony, and when Jack had been setting up streamers in the cargo hold below.

But it seemed Otacon had forgotten, in his moment of awkward dozing—he takes the tube sheepishly, smiling bashfully. Snake makes a mental note to tease him for this afterward.

"—Hehe, right…" And Otacon clears his throat again. 

First, Otacon goes to Snake's camo, cargo pants, unbuttoning them and shimmying the dull, olive drab and boxers down simultaneously past his knees, letting them pool at his ankles. They had seen each other's dicks plenty of times before—seeing each other naked had come with living together for nine years—but Snake doesn't miss the way Otacon looks at his hungrily, as if it's a new sight. It's pretty _cute_.

His dick is mostly hard, pulsing all the way to the head with anticipation. This is probably the only part of him that doesn't look _as_ old as the rest. The veins are a bluish tint, but hardly visible over the deep hue of reddish-apricot that his skin is right now. Especially near the tip, it's shaded cherry red.

"—You're staring."

That snaps Otacon back to reality, and he stutters out, "I-I just—!"

Snake tugs the Otacon's underwear, playing with the waistband of the briefs. He teases the elastic, pulling it back a little and letting it snap back into place.

"S-Sorry."

"Don't be. But I don't wanna be the only one with my dick out."

" _Oh_." It seems as if that fact just finally _clicks_. "Right. It wouldn't be fair otherwise." 

His fingers slip under the elastic right then, testing the pull, seeing how much it would give. He stretches it, and pulls it over his boner, then past his thighs, and once they're at his knees they slip straight off onto the bed below. 

The lube is in his hands, now, and Snake lays back into the pillows to watch. 

He squirts some out, saying, "Do you _have_ to watch?"

"I could look at you all day." That part is true, no exaggeration; Snake swears it.

"I'm nothing special," Otacon replies, but not with the usual self-deprecation—just fondness for _him_. He slicks his fingers and brings them down to his hole, underneath where his cock is twitching and peeking upward. "You, on the other hand…"

"Me?"

He braces himself, as hard as he tries not to show it, and goes in, wetting his hole. He shivers from the cold. "Yeah, you. I've always loved your body."

"Even now?"

" _Especially_ now."

" _Damn_." He whistles, of course, maybe a little more shocked and simultaneously reassured from this revelation than he would've liked. Well, of course Hal likes him—does the fact that they just got wed keep slipping his mind? It must be the foggy, aroused shroud that's making his mind so murky.

Otacon offers up a cheeky smile as he finishes lubricating, going back up fully on his knees. "Alright, then…" He straddles Snake, his palms now cupping the outside of his thighs. He lines Snake's dick up, and moves down _slowly_ —it's so like him to be meticulous even at a time like this. 

Otacon drapes himself over Snake, pressing down hard but not _too_ hard. His balls rub against Otacon's cheeks when he bounces, creating a pleasant friction as he buckles his hips. Some shimmying later, and Snake's dick is in all the way, as far as it can possibly go.

It's better than anything, and here Otacon is, kissing him along his jawline, too.

" _Fuck_ , that's…" He says it through clenched teeth, holding onto the curly strands of hair at the back of Otacon's neck (he doesn't pull, just _feels_ and _savors_ ). It's such a lovely sensation to feel all of his Otacon, his warm insides and the way his arms are wrapped around him tight. 

He finishes Snake's thought for him, "M-Mmm, you feel so— _nice_." That is an understatement on both ends, but all either of them could even get out. His voice makes Snake vibrate, feeling the depth of his tone right next to his head.

Snake nudges him back a little, and Otacon lifts himself up, looking a bit confused—Snake touches his shoulders, caressing them, and begins to play with his nipples. This, of course, makes his back arch, and he recoils just as inch or so. Still, Snake teases the areolas, looking on as the tips get hard again, as if they were freezing cold.

Otacon still bucks his hips back and forth, but with eyes closed as Snake brings his tongue out, licking the sensitive skin there before suckling in little bursts. But he leaves soft kisses there, too, reveling in the way Otacon grips the back of his head.

His dick, meanwhile, throbs and throbs, threatening to climax at a moment's notice. He holds himself back, though, even with the intensity of pleasure wrecking his brain from all corners. Otacon's ass, while there isn't much of it, brushes against his skin nicely—the additional sensation from that, too, is what makes his back arch, leaving some space between him and the bed.

He still has stamina left, and so he can bear to thrust into Otacon a few more times. But it's clear that he's a little too rough, and a little too fast, because soon he's worn himself out almost completely. Snake is finished playing with Otacon's nipples, and instead kisses him once on the lips, feeling the coolness of his glasses pressed against his face. 

Otacon shudders, peeling himself back because he can feel himself getting tighter—can feel Snake's cock throb up harder to a definite point, begging for a release. Snake groans, and watches Otacon sitting atop him—he's now taken over for the thrusting, giving Snake a break. Instead, he slides up and down, in a pumping motion that's quicker than what he'd been doing before.

Snake is happily worn out—still tired, but it's not like that's a bad thing, given the situation. His moans pause, until he finally releases from the tip, right into Otacon, who is now seated blissfully still, his hands splayed on either side of Snake's waist, lifting up slightly as the cum fills him up.

There isn't too much, because it's mostly sticky and thin strands, but when Otacon lifts up and off (Snake shivering while his body melts all over, muscles relaxes) some of the cum drips out. Minimal, manageable—Otacon makes a little noise and crumples some of the sheets over it tho, wiping as much as he can and sitting back onto the mattress.

Without wasting any time, Otacon breathes out, "Y-You're next, so—I'll go inside of you?" Snake gives a curt nod, still catching his own breath as his dick calms down. "If you're not too exhausted…"

"I can handle it, honest." This is just too good to pass up. "I think I wanna...lay down, though."

"Mmm." Otacon backs off, giving Snake space to readjust. His cock is hard—only average in length, but especially girthy. It's not as warm and pulsing as his had been, probably.

Snake reaches to stroke it, anyway. 

Besides yelping at how cold to the touch Snake's hands are, Otacon does nothing to protest. "J-Jeez, I think _you're_ the needy one..." 

It's only a playful grumble, so Snake smiles at it as he flips himself over, breathing out a sigh when his face presses into the pillow.

It's a bit hard to kneel like this while getting pounding—he has to face the reality that he is a tired, old man, and that means he's more exhausted than he would've been doing this a decade ago. So he's sunken into the pillows a bit, his chin resting on the fluffiest one but his ass still poking up high, legs angled and spread as if he were completely on all fours. 

Considering this is round two, and he's already happily glowing, the promise of being thoroughly pleased by the end of this (on both sides, no less) is far too appealing to just decline and rest. Even if he's still that tired, old man now.

"Ready?" From behind, Snake can hear Otacon unscrewing the lube again, probably slicking a good portion onto his fingers.

"Mmm." Snake relaxes.

...Otacon reaches for his hand, and it takes him off-guard. Snake doesn't grab back with any roughness; they are both holding with a certain softness, a timidness that feels as earnest as when they'd held hands during their ceremony, and each slipped a ring on the other's finger. Now, left hand in left hand, Snake feels the cool metal of Otacon's ring atop his skin, and Otacon surely feels his, too.

"I _do_ love you, you know." Otacon— no, _Hal_ , says it like Snake had protested, had doubted it for even a second.

It's so sudden that Snake instinctively quips a reply, "I know, you said it about ten times when we were cutting the cake alone." That just makes Otacon laugh in that deep, familiar way that he always does, tone so carefree and cute. "...I love you, too," Snake finally relents, squeezing Otacon's hand.

Their fingers looped and twined, Otacon leans forward, pressing his abdomen against Snake's round ass. He's warm as he leans over, and even warmer when he slips one finger into Snake's hole, hears Snake moan, and then pokes in a second one. He rubs along the edge, and goes even further, spreading the gooeyness until it's smoothed out and everything is wet. And he lines himself up.

Otacon, who's stimulated already from riding, has precum slicked along the tip of his cock—this is something Snake only finds out when Otacon carefully pushes inside him, the heat of his cum contrasting the cold lube nicely. 

To be penetrated—it's a sensation that doesn't get old. He could never get tired of _this_ , because Otacon feels so _perfect_ inside him. Nothing could possibly be better than the thickness of his shaft, the way his head squirms around inside trying to go deeper, how Otacon grips the sides of Snake's hips as he begins to thrust.

He starts out at a slow pace, building up a rhythm that goes faster and faster. It's not that he's getting rougher—well, he starts careful but is more hurriedly aroused with his pressing and pounding as he gets a feel for it. But he's never too hard, never too manic. Always the same, steady beat. 

Gradually, though, the harmony starts to rise into a crescendo, and Snake can just barely keep up. It seems that Otacon senses this, and so he waits for Snake to steady himself again—all the while, he still grips Snake's hand, more confidently now. As if telling him that everything's alright.

Snake believes him, and starts bucking his hips with just as much gusto as he can handle. He bites the pillow, so strung-up and sensitive that he feels every fickle little movement that Otacon's dick makes inside his hole. It's almost a little too wide, but fits snugly, taking up all the space that's available.

Otacon's body wracks with pleasure over Snake, his chest falling onto Snake's back. His free hand traces his spine up and down, over the bones and tendons, which gently contract. By now, he's lifted their held hands, too, letting them hand in the space underneath Snake's form, between him and the bed. The grip is limp and relaxed, now, as Otacon plunges in and out.

With Snake caught up, he moves a bit faster than before, drawing a sharp breath when his cock starts to tense up. That makes Snake tense up too, if only for just a few seconds. His body is preparing for the sweet sensation of Otacon cumming at any moment now.

He only wishes that Otacon were more visible, so he could _see_ the pleasure flash across his features. Hearing the delightful little sounds he makes is an adequate substitute, though. There's a little squeak to his voice, a gentleness and hesitance that's clearly a manifestation of him not wanting to be too rough. 

But then Otacon gives a final, pleading thrust, a strained moan coming from his lips. Snake rolls his hips to the rhythm, pushing his cheeks back against him ever-so-slightly, but in a way that exudes even more tension. That's the tipping point, though—Otacon mewls in the quietest voice he can muster, while he releases simultaneously, his cum bursting and flooding into Snake's hole. That is when he lets go of his hand, too, consumed with the stimulation. 

The fluid fills him up, warm and sticky, and just as Otacon is exhaling in relief, Snake is biting his lip at the pressure. He's full and somehow even more content; Otacon slides out cautiously, because it's overflowing and he's dripping onto the bedsheets. They'll have to clean those quickly.

As soon as Otacon is out—making an off-hand grumble about the blankets, of course—Snake lowers himself fully onto the mattress, dick twitching just a little against the softness as the tingling sensation writhes through him.

"...At least let me put everything into the washing machine before you fall asleep, Dave." Hal is scolding about these sorts of household things, as usual. He's already tugging at the sheets, while Snake just lays there in a lazy type of pleasure.

Snake is sort of breathless, too, but moves over a little so Otacon can tug the blanket from under him.

"And at least wait for me so we can cuddle." Now he's sounding especially pouty.

Giving a chuckle, Snake finally says back, "Oh, yeah. That'll definitely be worth the wait, too."

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading, hope it was good!!! my socials here:
> 
> [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/togeklssu)   
>  [KOFI](https://ko-fi.com/mochacreams)


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